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One, two, three…
I hoped it would help pass the time, but as I looked at the door again, I realized nothing would help. I fidgeted, cracking my knuckles and running my fingers through my hair.
As I made my way back toward the wall attached to the bathroom, I noticed my disheveled hair in the mirror. I looked like an absolute mess.
It felt like hours had gone by and Emilie still hadn’t returned to our room. Reyna wouldn’t be so cruel as to touch her, would she?
Sure, she’d taken advantage of me time and time again. Using my body for her sick fantasies and sharing me with her evening guests. But she wouldn’t do that to Emilie. She couldn’t.
An involuntary shudder rippled through my body. It wasn’t hard to imagine what Emilie might be going through. I’d lived it every night for weeks.
The first time, I’d thought I was in some sort of nightmare. That it couldn’t be real. But every time I closed my eyes, I could feel Reyna’s hands on me. I could feel the weight of her body on top of me, grinding into me while an audience watched with fascination.
I’d been the High Commander of Osavian’s armies for over a decade. I’d seen a lot of horrible things. Soldiers tortured and disemboweled. Entire villages burnt to the ground. Nothing would ever compare to the atrocities that Reyna devised. It was a level of sinister that I hadn’t been prepared for. And now she had Emilie.
Bile rose in my throat, but I choked it down. I needed a shower.
I turned to pace in the opposite direction, rolling my neck and scratching my skin. Lately, I was having a hard time feeling like myself in my own skin. I wanted to rip it off. Shed it and be born anew like some reptile.
Without Emilie, I realized just how much of a distraction she’d provided. I was locked in a room, but even worse, I was locked in my head with my own thoughts.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Reyna. Her vicious smirk and sick desires. The things she had done to me. And was now presumably doing to Emilie.
Once again, I’d failed to protect her. I’d consistently been failing in my duties as High Commander.
As I motioned to turn and pace in the opposite direction, the door clicked open. I froze while Emilie took a few steps forward, arms wrapped around her body, and the door closed behind her.
I reached for her. “Emilie?”
Slowly, her eyes rose from the spot she’d been examining on the floor and she met my gaze. Tears glistened in her eyes and I immediately felt a tug in my chest.
She pulled back when my fingertips grazed her elbow. “You…she’s been doing this to you? The whole time?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and inhaled sharply. Although I’d suspected this was coming, I hadn’t mentally prepared to talk about it…to share those invasive experiences with Emilie.
“What did she do?” I asked, diverting her attention instead.
A tear fell down her cheek, and she looked around the room as if she were lost. Hopeless. Again, I reached for her and she allowed me to step closer, to grab her by the shoulders. She stared at my chest rather than my face, unable to meet my inquiring gaze.
“I suspect you already know,” she murmured.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to believe it. But even in my heart, I knew it was true. I tilted her chin up to find her face full of despair. “I’m so sorry, Emilie.”
She released a shaky breath. “She…she made me attend this party. And the guests…” She gulped. It was clear she was struggling to relive the past few hours. She shivered as she carried on. “They touched me. They violated me. I…I—”
“Stop. You don’t need to tell me. I don’t need to know the details.”
Pain was etched in every freckle, every crinkle in her forehead, every glistening wet eyelash.
“And she’s done the same to you?”
I nodded, unsure how much she wanted to know. Sighing, I decided to tell her the truth. “That and more. I’ve…she’s used me in many ways. She’s used me as her personal sex slave, I suppose you could say. Those guests of hers love a show.”
I tried to make light of the situation, but it came out fractured and tormented. Emilie saw right through it. She wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her face against my chest, momentarily catching me off guard.
“I’m so sorry.” I heard her muffled speech against my shirt. “You should’ve told me.”
How could I have? I was taught to be strong. To be unafraid, lest those around me become fearful. Soldiers looked to me as a pillar of hope. Of bravery. But as she sobbed, I considered that maybe Emilie didn’t need an unwavering warrior. Maybe she needed a friend. A confidante.
